


That Original Lifeline

by mardia



Category: Jane the Virgin (TV)
Genre: Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Background Character Death, F/M, Kid Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-18
Updated: 2015-11-18
Packaged: 2018-05-02 05:17:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,951
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5235608
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mardia/pseuds/mardia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As she’s about to leave, Jane turns back, the skirt of her brightly patterned dress swirling around her. “You have a lovely son,” she tells him, her voice barely above a whisper, and then she’s gone.</p>
<p>Swallowing, Rafael says quietly to himself, “Yeah. Yeah, we do.”</p>
<p>(An AU where Rafael is a single parent raising his kid, but he's hoping that won't always be the case.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	That Original Lifeline

**Author's Note:**

  * For [useyourtelescope (thedreamygirl)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thedreamygirl/gifts).



> Thanks to both my betas for looking this over, they were a huge help. Title comes from the song "Third Eye" by Florence and the Machine. 
> 
> This story deals, in part, with the off-screen death of a major character in the show, if you need or want additional details, please check out the notes at the end of the story.

Rafael can predict how these meetings will go, and yet every time he sees her, his heart speeds up in anticipation.

Jane catches sight of him as he walks into the restaurant, and gives him a faint smile, but Rafael can see the strain in it. It’s the same kind of look Jane has every time they meet, every time she sees him.

Rafael can’t pretend not to understand it, but it’s still a disappointment each time. Still, he smiles at her as he approaches, as warm and friendly as he knows how. “Hey Jane, it’s good to see you.”

Jane gets up from her seat to give Rafael a hug, which he chooses to take as a good sign--and he also takes note of the careful distance she keeps between their bodies. He follows her lead as best he can, keeping the hug brief before pulling away to take his seat. 

“It’s good to see you too,” Jane says, sitting down herself. “I’m glad that we could do this today.”

She doesn’t actually _look_ glad, but Rafael tries not to read too much into it. She’s here, after all. Every month, she comes to see him. Every month, she takes his phone call and agrees to another meeting. It means something, that she keeps coming to see him, and despite what his lawyer keeps advising, Rafael can’t be the one to end this. 

“How are you, Jane?” It’s not just a pleasantry, and Jane’s face momentarily tenses before smoothing out. 

“I’m doing well,” she says. “I’m teaching still, so...”

“You’re teaching in a middle school now, right?” Rafael presses, and at her brief nod, he asks, “How’s that going?”

And so they make awkward small talk, through the waitress taking their orders, right up until the appetizers arrive. Rafael does his best to keep the focus on Jane, her work, how her family’s doing. He might know a lot of the answers already, but it’s still good to hear Jane tell him herself, see her relaxing as he asks questions about her students, the parent-teacher conferences she’s preparing for.

And then Jane asks, poking at her salad with her fork, “So, how is he?”

Rafael doesn’t pretend to not know who she’s referring to. “Mateo’s doing great, Jane. Well, he’s teething still, so he’s a cranky mess at the moment, but he’s okay. I’ve been using the wet washcloth trick, and that helps.”

“Where you stick a wet washcloth in the freezer and then let him chew on it?” Jane asks. At Rafael’s nod, she smiles a little. “My mom and grandma did that with me as a baby too.”

“Huh,” Rafael says, quickly putting a smile on his face. “How about that?” He takes a breath and offers, “I have some photos on my phone, if you’d like to see them?”

“Sure,” Jane says, looking like she’s having to brace herself. So Rafael moves his chair to Jane’s side, and pulls out his iPhone to show her the many, many pictures he’s taken of Mateo this last month. She doesn’t say much, and Rafael watches her face as she goes through them, but he can’t tell if she’s--she’s focused on the pictures, definitely, and her eyes are--oh. Oh.

“Jane,” Rafael says, softly, as a tear escapes and runs down her cheek. “Jane, it’s okay, if--”

He tries to put a hand on her shoulder, but she shakes him off. “No, it’s okay, I’m fine,” she tries to insist, blatantly lying. 

“Jane,” Rafael says, and she looks at him, her eyes wet and her mouth trembling, and then she quickly looks away. 

“Please don’t be nice to me right now,” Jane says, wiping away at her tears, her voice breaking. “I can’t--please, just don’t.”

Rafael’s heart feels like it’s cracking open, but he somehow nods. “Okay. Okay.” He carefully moves his chair further away, to give Jane some needed space, but it doesn’t do much good, She’s still taking deep breaths, clearly overwhelmed. 

And after a moment, still visibly upset, she shakes her head in refusal, saying, “I should go. I should--I have to go.”

Rafael tries to protest, tries to offer her a ride home, or call a cab if she’d prefer that, but Jane refuses. She won’t even let him pay for lunch, tossing down a twenty out of her wallet as she hastily gets to her feet. 

As she’s about to leave, Jane turns back, the skirt of her brightly patterned dress swirling around her. “You have a lovely son,” she tells him, her voice barely above a whisper, and then she’s gone.

Swallowing, Rafael says quietly to himself, “Yeah. Yeah, we do.”

*

To say that Rafael’s lawyer is unhappy with the current arrangement is a huge understatement. 

“Mr. Solano,” Tyson Burke had said, lips pursed, his deep brown fingers tapping a rhythm against his desk, “as your lawyer, I have to strongly urge against this. You are leaving yourself open to a major custody battle--”

“It won’t be a battle with Jane,” Rafael had said, cutting him off. “I know her. She’d never let this get ugly, and neither would I.”

Tyson had looked incredibly unimpressed by that, and said, “With all due respect, do you know how many times someone you think you know will let things get ugly in court to get their way? If Ms. Villanueva is willing to sign away her custodial rights--”

“Jane is not thinking clearly right now. Her fiancé just died in a car accident, she’s grief-stricken, and I’m not going to pin her down on something she said just a few hours after giving birth.” Jane’s family wasn’t sharing a lot with Rafael at that moment, understandably, but from what they did say, he’d gathered that post-partum depression might also be an issue at play here. 

More than anything else, Rafael had seen Jane that night, seen the deadened look in her eyes as she’d told him she wouldn’t fight for custody, that she’d sign her rights away if he wanted her to. 

He didn’t want that. Rafael couldn’t think of anything he wanted less than the ability to make Jane disappear from their son’s life for good.

“By leaving this door open, you are making yourself incredibly vulnerable--”

“I am well aware,” Rafael said, cutting him off again. “And I’m going to continue to leave that door open, for as long as I can. I appreciate your advice, I do. But I’m not going to take it.”

That was where it ended, and that’s been the state of affairs ever since--Rafael leaving the door open, hoping that someday Jane’ll be ready to walk through it. 

*

If you’d told Rafael six years ago that his idea of the perfect night would be staying in for a quiet evening at home with his kid, he’d have never believed it. (He would have wanted it, desperately, but that Rafael would’ve never believed it was possible.)

Nine months in, and Mateo is easily the best thing in Rafael’s life, even when he’s cheerfully soaking Rafael’s shirt with all the splashing he’s doing in the bathtub. Rafael is making an idiot of himself, making funny faces to make Mateo laugh, and it’s working like a dream.

Mateo is chortling, laughing so hard that his little body shakes, until he’s giving the quietest, cutest snorts. Rafael’s laughing too, helplessly, reflecting his son’s joy back at him.

Once bath time’s over, Rafael settles Mateo into his crib, tucking his soft green blanket around him, smiling as Mateo sleepily kicks, his little fists waving in the air. 

“Shh, buddy. Get some sleep.” He knows he should walk away, but he lingers a little bit, watching his son. His son. Rafael can’t ever imagine getting used to this fully, taking Mateo’s existence as simple fact, as humdrum as...as doorknobs or the grass being green. He has a kid. He has this kid, this perfect, tiny, wonderful little being. And Rafael’s never been religious, really, but it makes him want to go down on his knees and thank every deity out there.

No. What Rafael really wants to do is thank _Jane_. 

There’s a running log in Rafael’s head of all the things he wants to tell Jane about their son. The day he first smiled at Rafael for real. What a struggle it was sometimes, getting him to bed, how he seemed to save his most earsplitting cries for the days when Rafael already had a headache. He wants to bring Mateo to her and say, “Look. Look at this wonderful kid we created.”

And selfishly, Rafael wants to be able to just _talk_ with Jane, period. Really talk with her. His latent romantic feelings for her had never really gotten off the ground, between their complicated situation, his divorce from Petra, and her engagement to Michael--there had never been any time where Rafael could have...could have seen where that chemistry they had could have gone, given an opportunity. All the same, he’d liked Jane. He liked her kindness, her optimism, her humor, the grace she showed under the most trying of circumstances. 

The truth is that Jane Villanueva is probably one of the best people Rafael has ever met, and he wants to have her in his life. He wants her to be in their son’s life, even if he has no idea how that’ll happen, not with Jane where she’s at right now. 

He wants a lot of things still, if he’s honest with himself, but he just has to keep being grateful for what he’s got. 

And what he has, he reminds himself as he adjusts the blanket around Mateo, is pretty incredible on its own.

*

Sunday afternoons have become the best part of Rafael’s week. 

He does his best to keep his schedule free on those days, gives Mateo’s nanny the day off, and makes sure they’re stocked with plenty of lemonade and cookies. Mateo can’t really have either of those, but that doesn’t stop him from attempting to grab at the cookie tray, and he makes his unhappiness clear as Rafael quickly pulls him away before he chokes on a cookie.

“Not a chance, buddy, that’s not for you.” As Mateo continues to complain, twisting in Rafael’s arms to keep an eye on the cookies as if thieves will come in and snatch them away, the doorbell rings and Rafael smiles. Right on schedule.

He grins even wider as he opens the door. “Hello, Alba.”

Alba smiles as she says, “Ah, hello, Rafael.” But as it always goes during her visits, she only has eyes for her great-grandson. “And how are you today, Mateo?” she coos, her smile only growing wider as Rafael shifts Mateo into her arms. 

“Right now, he’s trying to grab all the cookies like there’s a chance he can actually eat them,” Rafael explains as they walk into the penthouse. 

Alba doesn’t really respond. She’s still chattering away with Mateo, who looks riveted. Rafael smiles to himself, because it’s always been this way for Alba’s visits--for the first five minutes or so, Rafael might as well be invisible, or speaking Sanskrit instead of Spanish. 

Eventually they settle onto the couch, and Alba is able to tear her attention away from Mateo to ask, “Oh, and how are you doing, Rafael?”

Rafael can’t help but laugh at the belated return of her manners. “I’m fine, Alba.”

She gives him a look. “Are you actually fine, or just saying so to be polite?”

“I’m really fine,” Rafael says, but he concedes, “Things can be a little hectic at times, between the hotel and raising Mateo and keeping an eye on Luisa…” More specifically, keeping an eye on Luisa so that she doesn’t go around the bend again, or worse, run off with the woman that murdered their father. 

He’d like to have more faith in his sister, but Rafael’s learned better over the past year. 

“So basically you’re running around like a maniac,” Alba translates. 

“Hey, at least I’m a well-dressed maniac,” Rafael replies, and Alba laughs, acknowledging the truth in that. Rafael beams--despite the complicated situation surrounding them, he _likes_ Alba. He likes having one other stable adult in his son’s life, the idea that Mateo has family out there that isn’t a complete disaster. 

“Well, if you ever need help with this one,” Alba says, nodding her head down at Mateo, who she’s holding in her lap. “--please, call me right away.”

“I will,” Rafael promises, and neither one of them brings up the elephant in the room--Alba’s family doesn’t know she’s in contact with Rafael, and her time with Mateo is limited as a result. 

Rafael wouldn’t dream of pressing Alba for answers about Jane. That is in no way his place, and he’s got too much respect for Alba to put her in that position...but at the same time, he can’t help but wish things were different. 

Looking down at Mateo, Alba says, so casually that Rafael almost thinks he misheard her, “You’re a good father to him, you know.”

“I...I’m sorry?”

Alba looks up, her gaze steady and so kind. “You’re a good father, Rafael.” She takes a breath and says, “I don’t think...I don’t think there’s anyone else in your life right now to tell you that, so now I’m telling you. You’re a good father, and you’re doing a wonderful job with him, it’s obvious.”

Rafael has to swallow twice before he can say, “Thank you. That...it means a lot to me.”

Alba smiles, and then the moment is broken by Mateo reaching out for Alba’s glass of lemonade, heaving his little body towards the table. 

“Oh no, not a chance,” Rafael starts, but Alba just grins. 

“Why not?” she offers, unfazed.

“It’ll be too sour for him,” Rafael says, and Alba just laughs. 

“Better he learns his lesson early,” she says, and so that’s how Alba feeds a spoonful of lemonade into Mateo’s open mouth. 

It takes less than a second for Mateo to react, and his look of total confusion and betrayal has Rafael cracking up. “I tried to warn you,” he teases poor Mateo, switching back to English as Mateo’s little face contorts as he tries and fails to deal with the tang of the lemonade.

“Bah,” Mateo says, nose still scrunched up in dismay. 

“Oh, do you want more?” Alba offers, waving the glass in front of him, and Mateo’s entire face wrinkles up as he twists his head away. “No? Okay, so let me drink it in peace then.”

And for the rest of the afternoon, Mateo doesn’t even so much as _look_ at the lemonade. 

The cookies, however, are a different story entirely.

*

Given their history, Rafael’s working relationship with his ex-wife is far better than anyone could’ve predicted. He can’t say that he and Petra are friends, or that they ever will be, but Petra wants the Marbella to be a success as much as he does, which is enough for them to be business partners. 

Not that it isn’t still awkward at times.

Petra comes into Rafael’s office to discuss his weekend trip to meet with some potential investors, which would be perfectly normal--if he wasn’t taking a late lunch to play with Mateo and some squeaky toys on the floor of his office.

“Oh,” Petra says in a remarkably flat voice as she opens the door. “I see you’re busy.”

“No, no, it’s fine,” Rafael says, but Petra isn’t looking at him. She’s looking at Mateo. 

Rafael’s stomach twists--at the look on Petra’s face, at the sad and painful history they share--and he asks, as gently as he knows how, “Petra?”

“Nothing,” Petra says, but after a second, she nods down at Mateo and says, “You’re lucky.”

“I know I am,” Rafael says. “Petra--”

But the moment’s gone, Petra’s got control of herself again, her shoulders squaring up as she says briskly, “You’ll need to make a good impression on this trip, Rafael. The Marbella needs this.”

“I know the plan, Petra. It’ll be fine.”

She just nods and, with one last look at Mateo, exits quickly. 

While Mateo vigorously shakes a plush toy to make it jingle, Rafael kisses the top of his son’s head and wonders for the millionth time just how his life turned out this way.

*

Of course, because Rafael’s plans for the weekend are both very detailed and very important, they go up in smoke that Friday morning.

Mateo’s nanny, Priya, who came so highly recommended, with so many great credentials, and who knows enough Spanish that she could not only understand Alba’s interrogation but pass with flying colors, is in the hospital with appendicitis. Rafael gets the call, reassures Priya’s sister that it’s okay, Rafael will cope, and that he hopes Priya feels better soon. Which is all true, and he’ll be sending flowers to the hospital, but it still leaves something of a mess on his hands. 

Rafael occasionally resists the label of helicopter dad, but that doesn’t change the fact that he’s… _particular_ about who he leaves Mateo with. He’d vetted Priya thoroughly before hiring her, and even if he could call the agency and find a replacement on such short notice, his stomach’s twisting with anxiety at the thought of leaving his baby boy with a stranger. 

As for friends--Rafael still has plenty of casual friends, people he could call up to go out drinking or clubbing with. But there’s no one who he’s really close with, not since Zaz--and look how _that_ turned out. 

He’s not cruel enough to ask Petra, and Luisa is out of the question--Rafael may love his sister, but reliable she is not, and he just can’t leave his son in the hands of anyone he can’t rely on, and especially not for a whole weekend.

Really, there’s only one option available, but Rafael still hesitates before he pulls out his phone to call Alba.

Alba answers right away, and Rafael barely finishes explaining the situation before she interjects, saying, “Of course I’ll watch him.”

“You will? Alba, thank you so much, but it’ll have to be the whole weekend, could you...I mean, you’ll be able to stay here until Sunday?” What Rafael really wants to ask is, _are you sure Jane and Xiomara won’t notice, or wonder where you’ve gone?_

“Yes, yes, don’t worry about all that,” Alba says briskly, but Rafael doesn’t think he’s imagining the anxious note in her voice. 

Still, he won’t turn down this gift horse, so he thanks her profusely before calling his assistant and canceling all of his appointments for the day.

Alba is as prompt as always, showing up right on time so that Rafael can head to the airport on schedule, and she won’t hear a word of Rafael’s thanks.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” she says, waving it off. “He’s my great-grandson and you need help, so I’m here.”

The sudden rush of relief Rafael feels is incredible--he wonders if this is what family is supposed to be like, having people you can count on no matter what--and so, impulsively, he ducks his head and kisses Alba on the cheek. “Thank you, really.”

Alba looks a little surprised but smiles at him affectionately. “Yes, yes, you’re welcome. Now, you should be going, you’ve got a plane to catch. Where is it you’re going again? Atlanta?”

Rafael confirms it, telling her a little bit more about the investors while he grabs his briefcase and his bags. Mateo is down for his nap, and Rafael kisses him goodbye gently before finally leaving, telling Alba to call him if she has any concerns or questions, and to be free with calling for room service or anything she needs. 

The trip itself goes well, the investors are interested, and Rafael tries to restrain himself from checking in on Alba and Mateo too much. He fails miserably at it, but thankfully Alba doesn’t seem to mind, aside from laughing at him when he calls for the fourth time on Saturday.

Rafael gets back into Miami on Sunday night, with new investors for the Marbella and a stuffed bear for Mateo he bought in the airport.

Mateo’s been put to bed, but Alba is still up, watching a telenovela on Rafael’s big-screen TV. “How was your trip?”

“It was good,” Rafael says with a smile. “Got the investors to come in, which is great--”

“Ah, good. Very good.” Alba is smiling, but there’s something off about it. Her smile is too tense for everything to be really fine.

“Alba, what’s wrong?” Rafael asks. “It’s not Mateo, is it?”

“No,” Alba says immediately, “No, no, Mateo is fine. Perfectly fine, he’s...he is fine.”

“But you’re not,” Rafael says slowly. Alba glances away, and Rafael takes a seat next to her. “Alba, what’s wrong?” He wonders if it’s her application for her green card, if something’s gone wrong there--he’d offered to hire lawyers for her, but she had turned him down.

She takes a deep breath. “On Saturday, I took Mateo to the park for a walk. And at the park...we saw Xiomara. And Xiomara saw us.”

“Oh boy.” 

She nods. “Xiomara told Jane that I was there with Mateo. That I’ve been...keeping this, my visits, from them.”

“That...can’t have gone well,” Rafael says slowly, and Alba gives him a weary look. “Crap.” 

“Yes,” Alba agrees. “It is total crap.” She’s quiet for a moment before saying, “I knew it would upset them. My seeing Mateo, keeping it from them, I knew it would--and maybe it wasn’t my place, like Xiomara says. But I wanted to see my great-grandson.” She inhales and continues. “And you....you have been kind, when you didn’t have to be. No,” she says sharply, cutting Rafael off with a hand when he begins to speak. “No, it’s true. You have been kind to me, to Jane. But, with Jane, it’s difficult--”

“Alba, you don’t have to explain to me,” Rafael says, meaning it. “I know Jane’s been having a hard time, I understand, I really do.” He takes a breath, his stomach twisting with nerves, before asking, “Does this change anything? With you visiting us?”

Alba does him the courtesy of not lying. “I don’t know. I hope not.”

“Yeah,” Rafael says. “Me too.”

*

Rafael never planned on being a single parent.

Before, there was Petra, and all the dreams they had for their own family. And then there was Luisa and an accidental insemination, and then there was Jane. Jane, and a child neither one of them expected but both of them wanted. And God, Rafael had wanted it so much, he wanted the kid, he wanted his kid to have a stable, loving family and the best mother possible--which meant Jane. Even if having Jane as his kid’s mom meant having a jackass like Michael Cordero along for the ride. 

But they’d been all set, they’d hammered out the custody arrangements, the child support, Rafael had learned how to be (barely) civil to Michael when necessary--and then Michael had gotten into a car accident, and he was dead. Just like that.

It had been awful. Not just because Rafael wouldn’t wish that on his worst enemy, but because of what it did to Jane. He’d seen her at the funeral, the drained shell of a person in a black dress, silently weeping, twisting her hands over her swelling belly. Rafael had sent flowers, he went to the funeral and held Jane’s hands and gave his condolences and told her that if there was anything she needed, he’d do his best to give it to her.

And as it turned out, Jane was very clear on what she needed. She needed time, and she needed space. From Rafael, and from their son. 

So that’s what Rafael gave her, because she asked him to.

*

Rafael doesn’t have to wait long to find out what’s going on with the Villanuevas. Jane comes into his office on Monday morning--or rather, Jane bursts into his office, greeting him with, “So we need to talk. Now.”

“Okay,” Rafael says slowly. Jane is practically vibrating with energy, and she barely waits for him to agree before shutting the office door behind her. “Jane, if this is about Alba--”

“Of course this is about my grandmother,” Jane snaps. “You have been sneaking around behind my back--”

“I didn’t sneak--” Rafael starts, but she’s on a roll. 

“I asked for space, didn’t I? I asked for us to keep some clear boundaries, and instead of honoring that, instead of honoring my wishes, you go behind my back--”

“Jane, she approached me,” Rafael says. “She stopped by the hotel to see how Mateo was doing, I told her about him, and things just...progressed from there.”

“And deciding not to tell me?” Jane asks, folding her arms. “Was that also just a natural progression of events?”

Rafael exhales. “Jane, I’m sorry you didn’t know. Really I am, but…”

“But?” she bites out.

Rafael lets out another breath, and lets out the truth he’s been holding back for ages. “In case you hadn’t noticed, I don’t exactly have a lot of family around at the moment. Even if you don’t want to be involved in Mateo’s life, Alba _does_ , and I’m not going to deprive my son of having that positive relationship in his life.”

Jane stares at him, the silence stretching, and Rafael finally sees what he’s been missing since the moment she burst into his office--the brightness in her eyes isn’t anger. It’s tears. “You think I don’t want to be involved?” Jane asks, her voice hushed.

Oh God. “Jane,” he starts, “I didn’t mean that how it sounded.”

“You think I don’t care,” Jane says, her voice cracking around the words. “Of course you don’t. Why would you think anything else--”

“I have never thought that for a single second,” Rafael insists, circling around his desk to face her directly, to take her unresisting hands in his. “Jane, please, listen to what I’m telling you. I have _never_ blamed you for giving up Mateo, not ever.”

Jane’s crying now, the tears streaming down her cheeks. “Why not?” she sobs out. “I do. I blame myself every day, I couldn’t hold it together, I gave him up like he was a pile of old clothes I sent out to charity--”

“You made the best choice you could--”

“And I don’t get to take it back, I don’t ever get to take it back--”

“Why not?” Rafael asks her, desperate. “Jane, why not?”

She stares up at him, her face disbelieving. “I, I can’t, I made that choice, I can’t just rewind and go back--”

“Says who?” Rafael asks. His heart speeding up in his chest, he squeezes her hand and says, “Jane. Do you remember what you told me, when we worked out custody the first time?”

Jane breathes in through her nose and says, her voice shaking, “I said that we were a family now. No matter what happened next. We’d always be family.” Her voice breaks at the end, and she pulls her hands away to wipe at her cheeks.

Rafael offers her the handkerchief tucked in his jacket, and she takes it with a watery smile. Hope rising in his chest, he says, “I didn’t forget that. This whole time, I’ve never forgotten that.”

Jane is starting to look a little calmer now, maybe even hopeful, but she still asks, “But everything I said before--”

“Jane,” Rafael breathes out. His chest feels tight, but it’s still somehow the easiest thing in the world to smile at her, a reflex as inevitable and natural as breathing. “Out of anybody, you really think that I wouldn’t understand about wanting a second chance?”

Jane inhales sharply at that, her eyes going wide. “Really?”

When Rafael nods, she lets out another sob and dissolves into tears again. 

“Good tears?” he asks, hesitantly, and she sobs again as she nods, pulling him into a fierce hug. 

Rafael hugs her back, exhaling with relief and a slowly dawning delight. If his own eyes are prickling a little, he won’t say anything. Good tears, after all. 

*

Sunday afternoons are still the best part of Rafael’s week.

“No, Mateo, phones are _not_ for playing with,” Jane says in a mock-stern voice, holding her phone far out of Mateo’s reach. He makes a protesting noise and tries to reach for it, and she opens her eyes wide and lets out an exaggerated “Noooooo,” in the way she’s already learned will make him chuckle. 

It works, of course, as he gurgles in delight--and that gurgle changes to delighted laughter as she starts tickling his soft tummy. She’s riveted, barely stirring as Rafael sits down next to her, the bowl of mashed sweet potatoes in his hand. 

Mateo notices, though--their son has an eye for food. He grabs for the bowl, and Rafael asks Jane, “Do you want to feed him?”

Her eyes light up. “Yeah,” she says. “Absolutely.”

They get the bib around his neck, settle him in Rafael’s lap while Jane feeds him bits of mashed sweet potatoes, making adorable vrooming noises all the while. While Mateo happily eats, she says, her gaze fixed on Mateo, “You know, this is the best day I’ve had since...I can’t remember how long.”

“Funny,” Rafael says, smiling down at Jane, his smile only growing wider as she catches his eye and smiles back at him. “I was thinking the exact same thing.”

**Author's Note:**

> Michael is the character killed off-screen in this story; although we don't see it close up in this fic, Jane is dealing with her grief and depression as a result of his death, and post-partum depression is mentioned as a possibility as well. I tried to deal with this as sensitively as I could, but if you have any concerns you'd like to share, please feel free to do so.


End file.
